Chocolate Chip
This is a good muffin because of promise. One like the reassurance of the sun itself. One that never has to be concerned about who it's reaching, but that the gesture of reaching is a reach itself. Roots pull water from the earth. One shares something on Facebook. It feels good to share. It feels good to write about outer space and use the word "human" because the earth is such a difficult and unfazed place. It feels good, in the consistent light of morning, to be a loved one.
REVIEW:
Chocolate-Chocolate Chip
The chocolate-chocolate muffin is like injecting a mix of adrenaline and wood glue into your heart.
REVIEW:
Blueberry
The blueberry muffin is like a waterfall corralled for tourists. It's there, those ions, those rocks of all those eons. Nothing's reliable like water, no other solvent. But the spotlights, the laser light show, screwcap winebottles and checking your phone again and again in the grass, and the billboards down off highway drags of increasingly standard America. Everything real is so much smaller and more intimate than the ideas like a diorama.
Not a small flavor, but a contained one.
REVIEW:
Cinnamon-Brown Sugar
Recycled air and water like on a plane: Reminder, a plane's just a tube in the sky. That's why it's best that some vessels speak for us. "I'm just another thing with a cord coming out of it"-Isobel O'Hare. "In the dust of this planet." -Eugene Thacker. The spoken-for. Indeed, we have a crisis of evaluation. And this is a muffin that crumbles (MUFFIN PUN) under the weight of its own judgment.The urge to document and tell it, let alone slant. The harsh ruining of mysticism no one seems to want to talk about.
REVIEW:
BONUS MUFFIN
Outside the box in a holding pen of its own is an unnamed muffin. Unlabeled and constantly without, its color and flavor too manifold to tell...what is this desire?
It's zig zag if frosting leaves an incongruous path untraceable in yellow'd haze through the soft bruise lavender of evening halo color'd light. Indeed, the question isn't what, but where...It's path untraceable, what belies its motives? And where do those motives lie?
It's like everything has been a vision quest for intimate language. Against the unmoving stone of the creations that are our legacies in the cold river of relational meaning, watch the language run through like a brand.
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